The Accident
by Anastashia
Summary: An injury results in Tyr discovering the motivations and indentity of someone in his past


The Accident  
...  
  
Part 1  
...  
Tyr became conscious with a start, keeping his eyes closed. He seemed to be reclining on a hard surface, with his back propped against a wall. He felt a hand on his shoulder, heard a voice, Dylan's "Try not to move yet". Not a command, more quietly, with some concern. But he tried to shift anyway and felt....pain, pain like he hadn't felt since, but no he he didn't want to think about that time. Cold, he was cold too, very cold. "Tyr, I told you not to move yet." A little more authority in the voice. "Ok" Tyr thought, obviously Dylan was right for now, and besides Tyr had no idea what was going on.  
...  
Tyr heard another voice, Harper's, but he couldn't tell what Harper was saying. He carefully opened his eye's, he really didn't want to move again at this point. Harper was on the other side of Dylan handing something to the Captain as they continued a low conversation. It was obvious they didn't want Tyr to hear anything. Then he caught Dylan's words. "Alright then, that means you're going to have to hold him." Harper's eyes swung toward Tyr and noted the Nietzschean's eyes were already locked on his face. As he moved around Dylan he said to Tyr in his normal sarcastic tone, "Ok big guy, if you try to kill me, I'll have you now." Then in a more concerned voice, "Sorry but this is going to hurt some."  
...  
He moved to Tyr's shoulder. As his hand came around Tyr noticed a smooth stick in it. Harper held the stick in front of Tyr's face. "This goes in your mouth". Tyr released an exasperated "Hmpf" "Com'on Tyr," said Dylan, "we've got to get this done". Tyr opened his mouth and accepted the stick from Harper's hand. Then Harper wrapped his arms around and under Tyr's and gently lifted. With difficulty he slid himself fully behind Tyr. At the first motion Tyr's head had snapped back, it now rested against Harper's right shoulder as the Nietzschean struggled to control his breathing.  
...  
Dylan looked on in concern. He'd administered the local anesthetic to Tyr's leg just before Tyr had regained consciousness. Not great timing in any case and the drug apparently had not yet taken effect. He hesitated to use more, might need it later. If they'd only taken the Maru instead of a lighter pod. But then Beka had been getting increasingly grumpy about the Maru, and this was only supposed to have been a quick jaunt.  
...  
Dylan knelt beside Tyr's badly injured lower right leg. This was a nasty compund fracture. Not only had the bone ripped through the surface, it was far from a clean break. It had literally shattered and there were fragments everywhere. Dylan shuddered at what he'd have to do before he could bandage and splint the leg..   
  
Part 2  
...  
'Leave it to Harper to have, of all things, a Laser Bone Saw in his pouch.' Dylan almost laughed to himself, but it wasn't the right time. He was just glad Harper did. He carefully picked up the surgical implement. "NO!" screamed Tyr, spitting out the offending stick. Quick as a flash, Harper's hand shot out and roughly shoved the stick back into Tyr's mouth. 'When had Harper ever been THAT strong!' thought Tyr in some confusion. He groaned, the movement had brought the searing pain again. Harper and Dylan exchanged a glance, neither had ever heard that type of fear in Tyr's voice.  
...  
Dylan looked into Tyr's eyes and saw the fear there too. He moved toward Tyr's face and squatted down beside him. Taking both of Tyr's hands in his he said "I'm only going to do what's absolutely necessary to bandage and splint it, relax." Again Tyr had to work to control his breathing, he made a sideways glance at Dylan's hands holding his, but did not dare to look Dylan in the eyes. Spitting out the stick again with a lot less fight he quickly glanced at Harper. "No" he said much more quietly with a small negative shake of his head. Dylan sighed and carefully placed Tyr's hands back in the Nietzschean's lap. Sliding to a sitting position on the floor he said "Ok I'll give the medication a few more minutes to work, but your immune system can only hold off infection for so long."  
...  
'Finally Dylan was giving him back some control' thought Tyr. "You might at least have told me what you were planning" he said evenly. "You're right, I apologize; but I'm scared too here Tyr" Dylan replied. Tyr's stomach muscles tensed but now he was able to say "Let's get it over with then." before replacing the stick, biting down on it with determination.  
...  
Dylan stood and walked back over to Tyr's leg. He picked up a large gauze square and unfolded it, carefully sliding the single layer underneath the shattered ends of the bone. There were already enough bone fragments he'd have to dig out inside the leg, he didn't want to add any more. As Dylan touched the leg again Tyr realized how glad he was he had the stick and felt Harper's arms tighten around him. 'Well you don't have to strangle me' Tyr's eyes telegraphed to Harper's. 'Yes, but at least I've distracted you' thought Harper, glancing at Dylan out of the corner of his eye.   
...  
Dylan reached out and set the laser behind the shattered edge of the lower tibia and began cutting the splinters loose. Here he was far enough away from the ankle bones that he had little doubt replacement bone could be easily grafted. As he completed the first excision he could feel it as every muscle in Tyr's body slightly relaxed. Unfortunately, the next part would not be so easy. The bone was splintered almost to it's very top. He was doubtful of his ability to excise the splinters without damaging the head that the knee structure rested on. Replacing a bone shaft was a realitively uncomplicated thing, but part of the knee structure. Well Trance was good. Still if he could avoid destabilizing it.   
...  
But there was no way, not wanting to rip the soft tissue from the condyles he was able to leave a very small piece. But the entire junction between the knee and the lower leg would need to be rebuilt. He carefully removed the guaze with it's fragments and set about removing the fragments inside the leg. Then he looked at the fibula. The smaller bone had broken cleanly and he could safely leave it be. Then flushing the wound with aniseptic he looked once agan. It was astounding that there was no major bleeding. He carefully pressed the skin closed, using some butterflies to hold it in place. Then he tightly wrapped the leg and splinted it.  
...  
Now he glanced at Tyr, who had remained absolutely quiet through the rest of this ordeal. The Nietzscheans eyes were closed, face pale, and sweat was on his brow as he lay with his head resting on Harper's shoulder. "He's doing ok" said Harper quietly as they let Tyr continue to rest. Dylan rocked back to a sitting position and let out a heavy sigh.  
.  
  
Part 3  
  
Tyr awoke again, he took in a breath, moved carefully, and felt... a dull ache, the terrible pain was now gone. It had taken long enough. He'd been hurt seriously before, but never had he wrecked a bone quite that badly, and he had to admit it was his fault. Well, mostly. The cleanly broken bone had healed almost right away, easily knit by the nanobots. But the bone that Dylan had been forced to partially remove; the nanobots could assist biogenic material to reknit quickly, but regenerate the actual material, no. So he'd had to wait three days in excruciating pain while the 'bots had created a structure to temporarily replace the bone, working their way in and around his soft tissue as they went.  
...  
Dylan had rationed out the limited supply of pain killing medication, but it had surprisingly done almost nothing to help. He'd refused to let Dylan completely anesthetize him however, he didn't know why. For right now, he trusted Dylan, he trusted Harper, but there was something about this place. So Dylan and Harper had done what they could to keep him comfortable and fed, while they also worked on repairing the damage to the lighter.  
...  
They'd kept him warm too, but for the first time in days it was a comfortable warm; not feverish swinging back and forth to shivering while suffering from the infection Dylan had correctly predicted, but a comfortable warm. First, because the nanobots had finally beaten the infection too. But he opened his eyes and saw he was also wearing one or the High Guard cold weather parkas. He's refused Dylan's offer of one when they been preparing for their trip, after all they were only supposed to be gone one day, and he was Nietzschean. That had been foolish though. Despite his extensive experience as a mercenary he'd spent little time in a cold weather environment. Luckily, 'hmpf' he thought, but yes luckily for him, it seemed Dylan's backup plan had included bringing the one for Tyr along. He decided he had to start at least considering Dylan's advice more often, especially when it came to situations where he had little experience.  
...  
So where were Dylan and Harper? Out repairing, or getting more food, or fuel for the fire. He was hungry and decided to chance his first try at the temporarily restored leg to go and rewarm the food and drink that had been laid out next to him. He warily drew his left leg back and rotated over his left knee keeping his right leg, still splinted, out in front of him. Pushing off the floor with his left hand and the wall behind him with his right he balanced in a squatting position and picked up the plate and cup in his left hand. Then using his right arm and left leg he stood, still keeping the right leg suspended over the ground. Gingerly he placed his right foot on the ground and started to transfer weight. The dull ache came back, that he knew would be there at least until an attempt was made to surgically repair the leg, but he could live with it. The right leg appeared to be holding so he carefully started to lift the left foot to take a step. So far so good.  
...  
Then he heard a noise in front of him and looked up. Dylan was standing silently at the entrance to the cavern. "Well Mr. Anasazi, it looks like you're finally up and about." he said with a wry smile walking in.  
...  
"And how long have you been standing there?" He was annoyed with himself that he hadn't noticed Dylan sooner.  
...  
"Long enough" said Dylan almost laughing, "I didn't want to make you fall again."  
...  
He tried to think of a sarcastic comeback but gave up in frustration opting instead to just shake his head negatively.  
...  
"How does it feel?" asked Dylan  
...  
"Solid enough, but I'm not going to be able to bend it am I?"  
...  
"Not until it's properly repaired no. I'm sorry about that..."  
...  
'Properly repaired or never?' thought Tyr, with a slightly cold feeling in the pit of his stomach. But, he held up his hand to stop Dylan "If you would though, help me to get this reheated please." Tyr watched as Dylan started to squat toward the fire, and handed him the plate and cup as Dylan reached back up.  
...  
The food and drink heated Dylan rose again and looked around the cavern. Tyr saw him gesture with his head toward a boulder at the near side. "Something you can lean on while you eat. That way you won't have to plant yourself back down on the ground."  
...  
"Good idea" Tyr said as he started toward the boulder. He saw Dylan move to hand him the hot meal, but was startled when Harper ran nervously into the cavern.  
  
Part 4  
...  
Harper glanced around the cavern quickly, then with a lightening fast look over the shoulder at the cavern entrance he moved to put Dylan between himself and whatever it was he was so obviously running from. A small figure shrouded in a soft brown cape, its face hidden deep inside the hood effectively glided into the cavern. Something brushed the back of Tyr's mind and he felt the briefiest twinge of his stomach muscles. What had evoked this rather abnormal reaction in him he thought, and began to move forward to see more clearly.. The figure spoke, "You've lead me on a merry chase little one," said a female voice "And now, I see, to a quarry MUCH more appealing. Did you think you could escape me forever, Tyr?"   
...  
At the sound of the voice he had frozen and as she lifted the hood back revealing her face he staggered back against the boulder behind him, and remembered again the fear of being 11 and alone. Not a nice feeling, not a nice feeling at all. He didn't want this to happen, not now, not when he was vulnerable again. He'd been relatively safe on the planet where Arcturus Aubreich had left him that first year. Then shortly after he'd turned 11 she had come upon him. He wasn't even sure he quite knew what she was. Shape-shifter? Or, had she been using mind control on him? He though briefly of Trance, but no, dismissed the thought. Not mind control, but more likely compelling hypnotic powers, and used ruthlessly against a child. She had made him do anything she wanted. Horrible things that no part of his 11 year old psyche had wanted to do.   
...  
But she had also helped him develop his mask of steel, taught him what he needed to know to become the mercenary who drew premium wages, and made him strong enough to finally escape her at 15. Or so he'd thought, because seeing and hearing her again had made him feel the maskl melt into non-existence. He shook, and noticed Dylan's quizzical look. As did she apparently, for she moved toward him again. "And sell the skills I gfited you with to others? And now," she glanced at Dylan, "bind your allegiance to another one? Did you think I did not know where you were and what you did?" She laughed, and there was no glee in it.  
...  
"Gifted?" he spat the word at her, "more beat into, along with other things to cruel to mention. Bind my allegiance? never, to you or another, I don't belong to anyone!" He was getting angry now and stepped toward her. He felt Dylan's hand on his arm and jerked it away. Now she turned to Dylan for a moment, "and I taught him well, didn't I?" She continued up to Tyr and placed her open palm against the middle of his chest. "Control yourself," it was said quietly, but with intensity. She placed her other hand against his side, where he had felt another dull ache that had perhaps only begun that morning. "you are in more danger than you know right now."  
...  
He cocked his head and dared to look directly into her eyes. There was no hint of duplicity or coercion in them, something he knew only too well. No, the look instead was one of concern. "Your immune system has been compromised, and badly, the leg is protected for now, but there is something else." The dull ache in his side suddenly burst to searing brilliance and he pitched forward. She moved in front of him to block his fall and the last thing he remembered was Dylan stepping up behind him to catch as unconsciousness overwhelmed him.  
  
Part 5  
  
He thought he'd felt pain before, he thought he'd suffered fevers before, but he'd never felt anything like this before. For days he'd drifted in and out of consciousness. Eventually he'd realized he was in the med bay of the Maru, then that the Maru was moving, and then he was on the Andromeda med deck.  
  
She was still caring for him. Trance hovering in the background, apparently satisfied at the care he was receiving but strangely wary of the caregiver. His immune system had been overtaxed. The nanobots that had attacked him after his actions on the Drago-Kasov homeworld had been designed to completely disable the Maru, to kill him. But he had gotten the Maru moving, and he had survived. But it was too soon.Although his own defensive nanobots had rallied to support the leg, they'd completey missed the much more serious injury that had almost taken his life. Apparently would have if she had not been there, at least if he had understood Dylan correctly when they'd talked the day before. She'd managed though to save the natural human basis of his bioengineered immune system. Then once he was out of danger of another infection she'd repaired his knee and lower leg.   
  
So now he was to rest and regain his strength she'd said. As she truned to leave Dylan had entered the room. "And how is your patient today?" he asked. She turned on Dylan, "You know this is partly your fault." she said. He'd moved to sit up the No! erupting from his lips. She'd simply placed her hand upon his chest and lightly pushed. He was able to offer no resistance and fell back again against the pillow behind him. "Did I say I was exhonorating you?" she said. "You two are too much alike, your relationship will have you constantly goading each other to action. The actions will sometimes be stupid. Problematic when that stupidity almost leads to one of you losing his life!" This last was said with some anger, and she turned her head away from him. As she turned he caught her eyes and saw...no that was impossible!  
  
He thought now of how he'd been injured. They'd been running and had come to the cliff. The fall to the water below had been even further then the drop on Midden and there'd been the additional danger of a 20 foot outcropping of rock to clear at the bottom before reaching the water. Perhaps they would have had time to climb down, but she was right, they did sometimes goad each other. Dylan had pointed downward palm indicating his choice and launched himself out into the air. Then just as Tyr had jumped he'd felt an unexpected gust of wind hit him in the face. Miscalculated, his jump landed him squarely on the rocks and the next thing he had remembered had been the cavern.   
  
But now he was well, only needing to regain his strength. But just what did that mean, he wondered? Since she'd found him again it had been there, right at the edge of his thoughts, but to touch it meant to push through the pain that he wasn't certain he ever wanted to deal with again. Because how she had found him had been an accident too, an earlier one of his own making. He had found a safe place on the planet where Arcturus Aubreich had left him. By following his rescuer's instructions he had joined a small well hidden community composed of about a dozen young humans and several Nietzscheans all of them under 20. Like himself, most of them had little desire to speak of how they had come to be here, but at least he had safety in numbers, for a year anyway.  
  
He had been 11, still learning with blunted blades, but good enough, his father and oldest brother having taught him well before their deaths. He was consistently able to mark the others with the strike-achieved dye more often then being marked, until that day. He'd thought he'd swung true, thought he'd turned fast enough, but the deep dye marks across his neck and chest and lack of marks on his older, stronger opponent said otherwise. His temper got the better of him and he'd sheathed the blades and stormed from the training field. In blind anger he'd left the compund and turned unthinking in the one direction he'd been admonished never to go.  
  
When his anger subsided he'd found himself on a city street, on the receiving end of not a little scrutiny. It triggered a small knot of fear in his stomach, he wasn't safe here. His eyes had darted to and fro searching for a possible escape, thought he'd found it, moved, and felt a hand grab his shoulder and spin him around. She was small but strong and fast, when he'd tried to pull away, she'd easily flung him to the ground, reached down and pulled his arms benind him. He was bound and yanked to his feet a rope around his neck before he could even think of reacting.   
  
She'd spun him around again and checked the leather bracers on his arms. The pure evil he had already sensed in her eyes only appeared more so as he'd heard her say, "A Nietzschean child, and one barely old enough to be away from his mother, let alone here. Oh this is rich. What WILLl I be able to do with a little one like you?" She'd held his chin in her hand as she looked at him, then gestured, a transport had pulled up and he'd been flung to the floor at the rear and secured so he was unable to move. As they'd driven off he'd tried to concentrate on releasing his bonds but had no success. When they'd stopped he'd been blindfolded, lead into a building, and thrown into a small dark cell. They'd tossed him hard into the wall and he'd hit his head, and slid down unconscious to the floor.  
  
Part 6  
  
He'd woken to her standing over him, shivered as he felt the power of her presence, and tried to skitter away backward on his hands and feet. But she'd grabbed him by the chin and pulled his face to hers forcing his eyes to hers. The evil stared out at him again and he tried to flinch away but she was relentless. Pulling a glittering silver ball out of her cloak she set it to spinning and placed it in front of him, forcing him now to keep his eyes on it.  
  
"What ever I say, when ever I say, when ever I do" and she snapped her fingers.  
  
His life had become a struggle for survival from that day. He'd been thrown into a world of kill or be killed. The first two years it had been arena fighting. He'd balked the first time, refusing to kill his opponent. So he'd been forced to watch as the other boy was killed, and then he was beaten into submission. Brutally beaten and then thrown into his cell. They'd left him in pain just long enough, not long enough to damage him permanently, but long enough to impress on him that his life was no longer his own, that the option to choose was no longer his.  
  
Or so they thought, because the next time he had refused again. He had stood there head down because deep inside the fear was almost overwhelming him. She had stepped up to him, grabbed his chin, yanked his head so his eyes were forced to contact with hers, and snapped her fingers.[/i] "Kill him! [i]Before he had known what he was doing it was done. He had looked down at this hands covered in blood and sank to his knees in the bloodstained dirt.  
  
It didn't matter what he'd done the next two years he'd told himself later. He'd walled off his heart and did what he had to, survived; because he was a Nietzschean and it was his only choice.  
  
She'd called for him on his 13th birthday. He'd gone to her. Not because he wanted to, but because he knew he had no choice. As he arrived outside her room he'd felt it. There had been someone, no something else there. He hadn't seen it but was certain he was right, and he'd felt and smelt her fear too. It had puzzled him, he'd never known her to express fear. He entered the room and her mask had come up.  
  
"I've apprenticed you to Aldus Overan, a Nietzschean mercenary of some repute." Nothing else, no explanations, no goodbyes. He was sent off. So had begun the next two years of his life.  
  
Part 7  
  
He slipped up behind the other. To personalize it anymore was too painful still, so he pushed it away from what was himself, behind locked doors. Yet somehow the skills became part of him, the duality of weak yet strong, yielding yet indomitable, shaken yet stoic. It had been what he needed to survive. The skills took over and it was done. Only once had he allowed to cross his mind that he was good at this, but it wasn't what he wanted, would not have been his choice.  
  
His continuance and yielding to it was tempered by psychology. He was 13, and at 13 rebellion was as much a part of life as anything else. So he was rebellious as well. But he was smart, cloaking the rebellion inside of himself and at his own time. So he learned to kill, to steal, or repossess as they of'times referred to it. He learned to observe and negotiate and control. Then there were other things he learned, that while not as important still contributed to what was him. He stored them all away, a part of him.  
  
Tyr pushed the knife in again, feeling the warm flow of blood against his hand as hilt met flesh and the blade slipped in between two ribs. This one was no different than the others, it was just another death, and the victim was worthless besides. He kept telling himself that and eventually believed it, because it was all he could do by now. But something made him refuse the transport back to his quarters and they left him behind. He walked some distance the blood drying on him as the sun rose higher in the sky. At midday he'd found a sheltered spot and sat with his back against the rocks, his head tilted back. Sleep came unbidden and the dreams came too.  
  
He woke in a sweat, something had been reaching out for him again, the darkness that he had felt in her room. He shivered but once again pushed it away, rose, and walked back to the compound. But he was still too shaken to eat so he went to his quarters and endured an uneasy sleep, if it could be called sleep. Thus began a nightmare again. He'd kill on command, then hide while it wrung him out, it didn't matter that he'd no choice. He couldn't reconcile it, for almost two-and-a-half years he couldn't reconcile it. He could only live with it because it was done through compulsion. He didn't realize that was only the excuse he used with himself. Because eventually he was no longer compelled, and he slept, and he became able.  
  
Once he was able again he could leave. Finally he was strong enough to leave this apprenticeship and in doing so become free from her also. His intention was to return to the group of young humans and Nietzscheans he had joined when he'd first arrived here. He would become her and now he wanted it. But he didn't get his way here either because instead he ran into the slavers. So he was captured again. But his rebellious nature had been activated again. By leaving his indenture as a mercenary he had activated it again. This time he was letting it out, it showed in his anger, it showed in his complaints. He couldn't hide it any longer. It would almost kill him, but all that had come before had made him strong enough and he would win. Through it winning would become everything, did become everything, even survival. He was forever changed. He was Nietzschean. He had survived. He'd rejoined the group, become a mercenary again. Only now it was him whom the young ones looked to and feared.   
  
Then there was Dylan, and Andromeda, and the others, and he thought something needed to change. Why, he didn't know and somehow he had lost something, and then she was there again and he wanted it back. Now the memories came back to him in a flood. He hadn't thought about it all for a long time, until he had seen her again, then they pushed against the barriers in his mind . Whether he wanted to or not, he had to deal with them, had to look at what made him Tyr, and who Tyr was. It was time.   
  
They'd spent the last few days talking. He could never, would never forgive her, but at least now he understood much more of it. Undeniably she'd kept him alive. But now it was time to break the barriers and become himself fully and completely. Now it was time to cry she'd told him. He'd looked at her for a moment not able to understand how tears would make him strong. But as he opened himself fully to the memories the oft'time uncried tears of 20 years welled up in his eyes. She taken his left hand in her right, intertwined her fingers in his, palm-to-palm, "And now, continue and make me proud of you."   
  
Victoria's sister turned away. Now her nephew was Nietzschean again. Now this was all the echo of a whisper in his mind. 


End file.
